


You Could Just Say Thanks

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill apparently has a slight blood kink so there's that, Bill doesn't know how to human, Dipper is very much done with his shenanigans, Fluff, Human!Bill, M/M, Mild Blood, Older!Dipper, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gratitude, band-aids, kissing lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Could Just Say Thanks

**Author's Note:**

> This actually has a bit of a story behind it! I have a terrible inability to keep things short, and I also have an equally as terrible inability to write things without constructing an elaborate overarching plot to go with it. In an attempt to break myself out of both habits, I decided to give writing something short, shameless and shippy- say that three times fast- a shot.
> 
> I then proceeded to stay up until four in the morning writing, woke up the next morning and came to the conclusion that I hated it. But I still pressed on, finished up the fic and... Yeah. I'm still terrible at keeping things short. But, hey. Free Billdip- that's always a plus.
> 
> Enjoy!

“And,” Dipper drawled, leaning closer to place the last brightly colored band-aid over a particularly nasty scrape, “that should be all of them.” At least, that was what he hoped; the empty boxes littering the floor were all that remained of Mabel's personal super secret stash of glittery, rainbow bandages, and Dipper _really_ didn't feel like going through the trouble of going to the store to get more just because a certain dream demon happened to be a veritable _magnet_ for chaos and silverware-related puncture wounds.

Said demon casually ignored the exasperation coloring his impromptu doctor's tone in favor of lifting up his arm to admire his handiwork. With a satisfied hum, Bill wiggled his fingers and tilted the limb this way and that, golden gaze sweeping across the colorful bandages covering his skin. “Hey, Pine Tree, are you sure these things are supposed to fix me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically, before abruptly jabbing his thumb into one of the band-aids. Dipper half-heartedly reached over to stop him, only to wince at the sight. Bill, in turn, let out a hiss that sounded both parts pleased and pained before shrugging as though his actions were perfectly justified. “It still _hurts_.”

“They're bandages, not magic. They're not supposed to just make the wounds disappea- _stop that!”_ This time, Dipper was successful, reaching over to grab the demon's wrist before he had the chance to finish peeling one of the band-aids so he could check underneath. “ _Don't-_ don't do that. You'll only make it worse.”

“ _Worse?_ ” His eye seemed to light up at that, and Dipper tightened his grip on reflex.

“Not... Like that.” He said, very much aware of the dream demon's masochistic tendencies. “Listen, you need this,” he hesitated, not entirely sure what to call it, “human shell to stay healthy, right? Just leave the bandages alone, and the scrapes will go away eventually.”

“How long is eventually?”

“I don't know. A week?”

“ ** _A week?!_** ” Dipper winced, belatedly moving to cover his ears in response to Bill's unexpected- or, considering who it was, somewhat expected but still unpleasant- shout. He stared at him for a few moments, half anticipating the blond to continue, but the demon surprised him by turning away, mumbling darkly to himself about “fragile meatbag bodies” while picking at a band-aid almost as if to spite him.

The teen silently counted to five in his head, before letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding when no further outbursts occurred; Bill seemed resigned to pouting, occasionally grumbling unintelligibly about one thing or another in a tone that was too quiet to make out. Dipper found, however, that he didn't really care either way; he ran a hand through his hair, leaning backwards and glancing absentmindedly around at the empty boxes of bandages scattered about the floor surrounding them. He would have to clean up the mess as soon as he got the chance- and ideally before Mabel walked in and spotted the evidence. Knowing Bill, he would offer very little assistance in the endeavor, and Dipper couldn't help but wonder why he had even gone out of his way to patch up the demon in the first place. It wasn't as though he made it seem like he really _needed_ the aid or anything. In fact, Dipper wasn't even sure if a “human shell” needed to worry about mundane problems such as infection in the first place; it wasn't like it was a real body or anything, even if it did bleed like one. But there was just something about the sight of the demon covered in scrapes and dirt and blood- perhaps not entirely his own- that made his insides clench painfully in response.

 _Sympathy_. It was sympathy that he had been feeling, and a small part of his mind was at least willing to acknowledge that fact. The rest of him, however, refused to accept the idea that he might have been feeling the slightest shred of pity for _Bill Cipher,_ and instead decided that his actions had been out of responsibility and nothing more.

Plus, he was tracking dirt and blood around the Shack, and knowing Dipper's luck, he probably would have been the one stuck with the tedious job of cleaning up after him.

Letting out a sigh, the teen reached out to gather up some of the strips of paper littering the floor around them. “You're _welcome_.” He muttered, sounding perhaps a bit more bitter than he intended. He received no response, though the mumbling did come to a stop- something that he barely noticed- and Dipper continued to collect scraps from the bandages until both of his hands were full. “Anyways,” the brunet said, moving to face the demon, “unless you're hiding anything else under that sweater vest, I'm gonna g-”

Abruptly, he was met with blinding pain in his skull when he turned around. Jerking backwards, the papers were released from his grasp like pale confetti, and Dipper hissed, clutching at his forehead.

It took him a few seconds longer than usual to realize that Bill was the obvious culprit, a fact that he blamed on the pain, and that the demon had suddenly jerked forwards to headbutt him for no explicable reason. “Hey, what the _hell?!_ ”

The blond's single eye blinked owlishly, before he absentmindedly blew a piece of paper away from the ridiculous fringe of hair covering part of his face. His brow furrowed, something akin to frustration flashing briefly across his features. “Geez, no need to get testy with me, Pine Tree. I thought this was how you humans were _supposed_ to show gratitude.” A pause. Dipper stared at him, too confused to interrupt. “Or am I supposed to eat your face? You know, your species has this really annoying tendency to over complicate things- why can't you just hand someone a vial of blood or deer entrails and be done with it? You're all so t _ouchy._ ”

He fell silent then, apparently expecting a response. A response that Dipper didn't really have in him to give, considering he was completely _lost_ and _had_ been completely lost for about thirty seconds or so. When the dream demon casually reached under his chin to nudge his open mouth closed, the brunet jumped, quickly shaking his head in a half-hearted attempt to clear it. “I... Have no idea what you're talking about. Gratitude? Where did you get _that?_ ”

“Oh.” As Dipper watched, the blond slipped a hand underneath his sweater vest, pulling out a magazine so outrageously purple and pink that he immediately recognized it at Mabel's. Humming a chipper tune under his breath, Bill flipped through several pages, before placing it down on the ground between them, a bandaged finger tapping on the images depicted. “There.”

“That's...” Oh. _Oh._ Unwillingly, Dipper felt his face heating up at the sight as he slowly put the pieces together. This couldn't be happening- _clearly_ this was a massive misunderstanding. That didn't do much to make it less uncomfortable, however. “Bill that's not... It doesn't work like that.” Nudging the magazine away, he discreetly tried to flip it closed.

“Then show me _how._ ” Bill's tone was exasperated, patience clearly waning. The dream demon leaned closer, one hand pointing towards his face as the other carelessly shoved the magazine halfway across the room. “Come _on,_ kid, I don't have all day. Let's get this over with.”

“I don't...” He chewed his bottom lip. “Bill, you really don't get it. You don't owe me _anything,_ it's fine. Can you just drop it now? Please?”

The blond chose not to respond, eye narrowing dangerously instead. Dipper let out a sigh, fidgeting slightly in place, before his shoulders slumped. “Okay. If you're going to be that way, then fine.” He tried to ignore the way the demon's face lit up upon hearing that, figuring it couldn't be much worse than his only _other_ experience with kissing- much less watery, at least. “Just close your eyes... Eye, it's weird if you stare at me like that.”

For once, Bill obliged without a fight, closing his eye just as he was asked. He placed his hands on his knees, fingers drumming impatiently to a tune the brunet couldn't quite place. In response, Dipper took a few moments to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to do, before taking a deep breath and leaning in.

It was awkward.

Not because he was kissing a dream demon- well, alright, that was a damn good reason to feel awkward- but because Dipper had very little experience in the way of kissing, and it was quite obvious Bill Cipher had... Even _less_ than that, if such a thing was possible. For a long, uncomfortable moment, they were completely still, lips simply touching before the brunet realized he needed to take the initiative. He placed a hand on the blond's shoulder shyly, turning his head to the side and accidentally clicking their teeth together in the process in a failed attempt to deepen the kiss. After approximately three seconds of what was quite possibly one of the most mortifying experiences in his nearly two decades of life, the teen pulled away.  Avoiding eye contact at all costs, he quickly set to work scrubbing away at his mouth with the back of his hand. Nope. No, that did not just happen. He was going to conveniently forget that it ever happened- it was less painful that way. “So, yeah.” Dipper muttered, unsure of what else he could possibly say. “That's that.”

A few moments of awkward silence passed- denial wasn't really working when there was still a demon in the room with him, and the floor was covered in band-aid wrappers and his mouth was _tingling-_ and he dared to glance over at Bill to gauge his reaction.

“Do that again.” Chest puffed up and eye narrowed in determination, there was a devious glint in his gaze that Dipper couldn't help but dislike. Still, he supposed it wasn't the worst reaction he could have possibly gotten.

“I'm _not_ doing it again.” The brunet protested, huffing. “I already showed you what you wanted to know and... You know, you could just say _thanks_ or something whenever you want to show humans gratitude. It's what most people actually do- what _you're_ getting at is something completely different.”

“That was absolutely disgusting, and I hated every second of it.” Bill deadpanned, his serious look contrasting greatly with his tousled hair and numerous bandages. “Now do it again, and _don't_ make me repeat myself, kid.”

“ _No-_ ” Was all Dipper managed to get out before the blond launched himself at him with an inhuman snarl, and he was suddenly reminded that he wasn't dealing with an eccentric brat in a sweater vest, but a dangerous demon that could probably snap his neck in an instant if he so pleased. Alarm bells instantly went off in his head, and the only thing that kept him from panicking was a small, questionable part of him that urged him to stay still and see where Bill intended to take this. Against his better judgment, the teen obliged, even when the weight of the other knocked his back against the side of the bed.

Warm lips, too warm to be completely human were pressed up against his in an instant, and Dipper swore his heart was trying it's hardest to hammer it's way out of his chest. Despite being completely clueless to the concept of kissing, Bill seemed to be a quick learner, nibbling on his lower lip just enough to elicit a gasp that was pained and just a _little_ pleasured and caused his face to burn at his own reaction. Surprised, the teen jolted slightly, accidentally bumping into one of the demon's many wounds in the process.

“S- _sorry-!_ ” Dipper began breathlessly when Bill pulled away in response, only for his words to die in his throat upon noticing the lidded, almost _intoxicated_ look on his face. He didn't actually answer, simply grinning mischievously with too many teeth to provide much comfort, before leaning down once more.

Warm lips mapped out Dipper's throat, lazily trailing kisses in their wake and sending shivers down his spine. The rational part of him wondered what had brought them to this point, though it was quickly drowned out by the loud sound of his increasingly unsteady breathing. He reached up, fingers threading through the demon's thick, sunshine-colored hair, and Bill let out a pleased hum in response. A mouth ghosted over his jugular, teeth resting near his drumming pulse just enough to tease and fleetingly remind Dipper of just how vulnerable he was in that moment- how easy it would have been to sink down and send his precious lifeblood spilling all over the floor.

Dipper was, in turn, startled to realize just how little fear the thought actually brought out in him- not because he was fond of the idea of getting his throat torn out, but because he actually _trusted_ Bill not to do it, as strange as it sounded.

Almost as if sensing what he was thinking, the blond moved down slightly and proceeded to sink his teeth into the crook of his neck, deep enough to draw blood. Dipper yelped, hands grabbing at his shoulders in a weak attempt to pull him away. “ _Bill!_ ” Moment ruined; that was going to leave a mark.

He could feel the demon run his tongue over the places where there was presumably blood welling up, before pulling back and smiling with red-smeared lips. “Hey, Pine Tree, you don't taste half bad!” And before Dipper could protest, he crashed their mouths together once more, tasting strongly of iron.

It was admittedly more of a turn on than it really should have been.

He didn't have much time to dwell on how much he was weirdly enjoying the entire experience, however, because the sound of the door opening and a soft, surprised gasp managed to both catch his attention and send fear shooting up his spine.

Instantly Dipper pulled himself away from the demon, eyes wide and heart thumping a mile a minute. “ _M-mabel?!_ ” He yelped, voice cracking at the most inappropriate time. He heard Bill laugh, and didn't need to look to imagine the look on his face, grinning and shameless. He licked his lips and was mortified to find them smeared with his own blood. “It's _not_ what it looks like.”

His sister's eyes widened as she took in the scene before her, first their very telling position and mutually disheveled appearances, then the empty boxes and bandage wrappers littering the ground around them and finally the very colorful evidence covering the dream demon's skin. As the pieces seemed to click into place, her glare turned accusing, and she turned the full brunt of it onto her brother. **_“Dipper!”_**

Dipper yelped, turning to Bill for assistance, but the blond had other plans, scrambling to his feet and dashing out of the room before anyone could stop him. “Thanks!” He called, amused laughter echoing as he left the brunet to face the music on his own.

... That didn’t seem very grateful of him at all.


End file.
